He Just Have to Pretend
by Spaceteapack
Summary: The happiness of one's loved shall be his own happiness. Francis loves Arthur, Arthur loves Alfred. AU. FrUKUS.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia..

2.15 am. Francis was in his car, driving to a bar 30 minutes away from his apartment. He was tired and sleepy. Who wouldn't be, if you have to spend 8+4 hours at work and another 4 and half hours to do paperwork and presentation, sleep for about an hour and got a wake up call to pick a certain blonde up in a bar? He wanted to come back to his apartement and continue to sleep, but he just can't. So there he was, gulping coffee down his throat to keep him awake at least to drive.

"Why ryou here, fwoggy?" Arthur asked in slurry words when Francis called his name. The bar was not so full. In fact, Arthur was the only one there because the others seemed to be dancing.

"I'm taking you home, mon cher." Francis paid for everything the sand blonde man had drunk and slipped his hand to his shoulder so he could support him.

"I cn walk jst fine.." Arthur said, responded only by some yeahs from Francis.

"Why did you drink so much? Where's Alfred? He went with you, right?" Francis asked, had already been in the car, behind the wheel while Arthur is next to him.

Arthur didn't answer. His eyes were already closed, his breath steady, he was sleeping.

When they arrived at Arthur's house, no matter how hard Francis tried to wake him up, Arthur only groaned so Francis decided to lift Arthur up and take him to his room.

Arthur groaned and turned when Francis put him on his bed. He opened his eyes a little and said in a drunk and sleepy way (which I have no idea of), "bloody git, leaving me alone in the bar while he's out with a girl. Bloody stupid git."

"He left you in the bar? Le Amerique, never fails to make me speechless," Francis said in response. He took a pair of clean pajamas and changed Arthur's clothes with it resisting his desire to touch him more than necessary while Arthur was saying things like "don't touch me frog!" or "get your fucking hands of off me!" or other things. After some curses, Francis finished changing Arthur's clothes.

"Fuckin dense bloody stupid git. Doesn't he know that I like him? Stupid...git..." Arthur's voice was slowly getting soft. 'You, mon cher, are also dense,' Francis thought. Arthur kept mumbling and huffing until he fell asleep.

When the Brit was asleep, Francis patted his head, saying "bonne nuit, mon cher," and went down stairs to sleep on the couch in the living room.

At 6.40 in the morning, the Frenchmen got up, washed his face and walked to the kitchen to prepare some food for Arthur.

He decided to make some toasts and scrambled egg. He also boiled some water in the kettle to make some tea. He poured the tea water which was hotter than Arthur usually drank so when Arthur got up at 7, the heat would be perfect. He set them up on the table, then wrote a note on a paper and slipped it under the cup. After all those things, he went home.

Arthur woke up at 7. His head was dizzy from the hangover, but since he was not the type to lay on bed after getting up, he walked to the living room to watch some morning news on TV.

The smell of newly made toast and tea made him turn his direction to the small dining table in the kitchen. There laid everything Francis had cooked for him. A note wrotten in a fancy cursive writing caught his eyes.

Bonjour, mon cher. How are you feeling?

You remember that we have a meeting at work today about your book cover, non?

Au revoir~

Ah. Yes. Last night. Alfred left, he drank too much and a certain French took him home. And yes, Arthur almost forgot about that. The meeting. Yes. Alfred would be there, too. He sighed. He should thank the frog for reminding him. But the tea couldn't be put aside. So he drank the tea and eat the toast and scrambled egg.

The tea was just... Perfect. It was neither too hot, nor cold. The amount of sugar and cream were also perfect. Maybe the frog has known him so long that he knew what he liked.

After finishing them he put the plate and cup in the kitchen sink. And walked upstairs to take his phone and text Francis.

To: Frog

Thank you. I'll see you in the meeting.

From: Frog

Sure~ How about lunch? ;)

To: Frog

Don't push your luck. Actually I'd rather not seeing you at all, frog.

From: Frog

Ah, mon cher. How you wound my beautiful feeling :'(

To: Frog

Yes, yes. Now shut it.

Arthur left his phone on the table to take shower. After a rather long time of what-do-I-have-to-wear confusion Arthur decided that he would wear a dark brown coat, white shirt, emerald green vest and dark brown trousers. That was the clothes pairing suggested by Francis. The best he could make from Arthur's wardrobe, he said.

At 8.30am Arthur went to the garage to take his...car? No, it's not there. 'Where the bloody hell is my car?' Arthur thought. He was about to reach his phone and call Francis when he heard the voice of the Frenchman calling his name.

"Arthur? Mon cher~~ come out here~ the prince in the shining car has come to take you to work~~" Francis called from his car.

Arthur stomped on his way to where Francis was. "Where the bloody hell is my car?"

"It's still in front of the bar. I'll take you there after work, okay?"

"I don't want to go to work with you. Take me to the bar."

"Aww mon cher..." Francis pouted. But suddenly he got an idea. "If you go to work with me, maybe I can ask Alfred to take you to the bar. You'd like that, right?" Arthur fidgeted, seeming to consider the offer. He didn't say anything so Francis said, "it's almost late, too~"

He fidgeted and said, "since we're late...so...okay. Don't forget to ask Alfred, though." Francis could see him blushing at the mention of the American's name. Oh, Arthur.

They went to work by his car. The meeting went well, too. Francis have asked Alfred to take Arthur to the bar, too. Everything's fine, he thought.

Alfred annoyed Arthur, as usual. Why wouldn't he? But although Arthur always said that the American annoyed him to death...the American would be the only one wo could make him blush so much.

Disappointed? Of course. Francis was disappointed. He loved Arthur after all. But..what could he do? Smile and act as if he didn't mind. That's all. Oh. Helping Arthur to be closer to Alfred is also something he could do.

Francis shrugged. He just have to pretend, after all.

A/N: Um? What do you think? I think I fail. Awh. Thanks for reading~ oh. You can review me, of course~

Please tell me if you find any mistakes. Thanks~


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

A/N:

I edited it; I hope it's better.

* * *

"The happiness of one's loved shall be his own happiness," Arthur muttered, reading the words written beautifully on one of the pages of Francis journal. The cursive letters were beautiful, as usual, but there was a hint of sadness in it. "Hey, who is it about?"

"Oh. That. Mon cher, are you jealous?" Francis responded, grinning while holding Arthur's notebook on his left hand. They were in one of their favourite cafés, talking about Arthur's new novel before this conversation appeared.

"Why would I be?" the British answered, didn't really feel the very slight serious tone which slipped in Francis' question.

"Oui..." Francis let out a barely heard sigh, "your heart is only Alfred's."

"Yes, well..." Arthur sipped his tea, "that's right."

* * *

"Oui, mon cher?" Francis answered his phone, holding a spatula on his left hand.

"Um... You see, I..." Arthur gulped, "I invited Alfred to my flat for dinner on Saturday, like you told me to."

"Ah.. Good, then..." Francis said, forcing a smile to appear on his face so that his voice would have that, too. "So? What will you have for dinner?"

"W-well I'm not quite sure about that..." Arthur's voice was filled with confusions and nervousness, "could you..um..Help me?"

"Moi?" Francis DID know how disastrous the food Arthur made could be, so he said, "okay. Come to my apartment tomorrow after work, I'll tell you some simple tricks for the food." That would make Arthur happy, he thought.

"That would be...very nice. Yes, very nice indeed." Arthur's voice was filled with happiness, "so I'll be seeing you tomorrow, then."

* * *

Things were getting better in Arthur and Alfred's relationship, they finally started going out and Francis didn't have to get up in the middle of the night to pick up the Brit from a bar anymore. And he missed doing that. Really did. But he couldn't do that anymore. Arthur has got Alfred.

* * *

They were sitting together on the sofa in front of TV in Francis' apartment.

"It's fine, mon cher. Maybe Alfred had a rough day at work so he's more sensitive than he usually did.." Francis said soothingly (And added 'which is not sensitive at all', in his thought), left hand between Arthur's sand blonde locks, massaging his scalp softly. The Englishman was resting his head on Francis' shoulder, which he only did when he was desperate.

"B-but... I'm not sure, Francis. Does he really love me?" Arthur gulped the wine right from the bottle, which is the second that night.

"Yes, he does, Arthur. Maybe he's just having a hard time. You know how demanding people could be at him.."

"But his job is just making a cover for books! The git loves drawing, too! It can't give him any pressure!" Arthur slammed the wine bottle on the table.

"Non, Arthur. Even the things you love can give you so much pressure.." Francis took a sip of the wine in his glass. Continuing, "you hate it when you're in writer's block, but forced to follow the deadline, don't you?"

Arthur didn't answer. Francis said, "Maybe Alfred is now in that kind of position, mon lapin. You should try to understand."

"I-I just want to spend more time with him.." Arthur said, his eyes almost closed, both sleepy and a bit drunken.

"Yes, I understand, mon cher. Just...rest."

Francis laid Arthur's head on one of the pillows of the sofa. He took out his phone and called Alfred, told him to come and pick Arthur up, fixing what Arthur thought was messed up.

* * *

Francis was sitting on his sofa, a cup of coffee on a small table beside him and notebook on his lap. He was reading Arthur's new novel, again, to decide whether it's good or not to be published.

The story was really beautiful, just like how he'd expect Arthur to write. The rise and the fall of the emotions could be felt as if it's not a story, but a tale of him.

On the last page of the document, Arthur put a thank you part, just like usual. Francis sighed. His name was there, of course. Mentioned as the best foe and friend Arthur could ask for, of course he's happy, but he wanted something more. He wanted his name to be where Alfred's is. 'Thank you for Alfred Jones, being the most wonderful person I would want to spent my life with. Thank you for being everything I need, Alfred.' that's Alfred's part. Ah..How he wanted his name to be in that part.

It couldn't and wouldn't happen, he knew. So he stopped pitying himself and texted Arthur to tell him what he thought about Arthur's new novel.

* * *

It was Arthur's surprise birthday party. The workers gathered and surrounded Arthur, who looked startled as Alfred appeared with a giant cake on his hands.

"Happy birthday, Arthur Kirkland!" everyone shouted, except for Francis who shouted "happy birthday, mon cher" and Alfred who didn't say anything until the shouting stopped.

"Happy birthday, my Arthur," Alfred said and flashed his gazillion watt signature smile ONLY at Arthur.

Arthur's face was coloured in a deep red shade, shyly, he said, "thank you, love."

Francis had to turn away at that time, leaving the crowd.

* * *

"Francis, you have to stop this 'acting to be happy while feeling crushed inside' thing," Antonio said, when they were sitting together in their favourite bar, drinking at the Saturday night.

Francis sipped his wine and said, "So what'd I do if I stop? Yell at him that I am jealous and all?"

"No. Except you want to, of course." Antonio sighed, "Just... Doesn't it hurt you more when you have to act that way, Francis?"

"Yes, that hurts me, but if I don't act, I maybe will lose my chance to see mon lapin smile in front of my face"

"That's so not AWESOME, man! How could you do that?! You will be less AWESOME!" Gilbert said, after he finished flirting with one of bartenders, a beautiful girl with a sharp expression who didn't seem to be interested in him.

"I...don't know, Gil." Francis sighed and drank his wine.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yes. I split the previous 2nd chapter into two, and added some little things I Hope it's more enjoyable.

* * *

"Francis!"

"Oui?" Replied Francis sleepily, it was three in the morning when Arthur called. Francis has just gone home from a Saturday night out with his Trio.

"Francis, Alfred proposed to me."

"Pardon? My mind is a bit fuzzy.."

"Alfred. He asked me to marry him, Francis. And I said yes."

The realization came to him. Arthur was going to be married, to Alfred. "Ah..." 'There's nothing you can do now, Francis,' the little voice in his head whispered.

"Francis?" Arthur's voice was filled with worry.

"Ah, oui. It's great, Arthur. It's really great. I'm happy for you. Tell Alfred that, too. Okay?" Francis hoped his voice didn't show any pain he felt; he tried hard to make his lips formed a smile, anyway.

"Yes, sure. Sorry to call you this late, Francis."

"Mon ch-" Francis cleared his throat. He shouldn't call Arthur with any endearments. "Arthur, it is 3am, you should say that it's too early to call, not too late. But it's fine. You know it always is, Arthur."

"Um.. Yeah, Francis."

"Okay then. Anything else?"

"No, nothing. I just think that it's a bit strange that you're not using any of your French endearments."

Francis held his breath and exhaled slowly, "I guess I'm just a bit tired, Arthur."

"Oh, sorry Francis. I'll see you at work, then."

"Sure. Anytime." And with that, Francis turned his phone off.

He was very tired; he wanted to sleep badly. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, but he wanted to just close his eyes without having to listen to his phone ringing because Gilbert and Antonio would call him as soon as they knew the news.

Francis closed his eyes, sighing. He should be happy, but he wasn't. He wasn't happy at all. He turned and tossed on his bed, thinking about Arthur and Alfred, and why it wasn't him whom Arthur loved.

A few hours after that, Francis decided that he would cook. He didn't want to eat, but he knew he had to, because his stomach was grumbling. When he went to the kitchen, though, all he cooked was instant noodle; a food he usually despised.

Francis ate the instant noodle sitting in front of his TV. His eyes were on the TV, but he was looking further. He was looking to somewhere else, probably Arthur's bedroom, because he could almost feel Arthur's scent all around him. It felt as if he could just reach out and touch Arthur's face.

Francis shook his head, "Merde, Arthur. What have you done to me?"

The rest of the Sunday was spent to write a resignation letter. He needed to quit his job. He was tired. He couldn't pretend anymore. He could no longer smile after being poisoned.

On Monday, he came to the director's office to give him his resignation letter. He said that he's tired and wanted to go back to his hometown in France, open up a bakery and live a peaceful life, right then or at least that week.

Well, all of the reasoning was right, but he, actually just wanted to end all of this pretence.

"Why?"

"I told you before, Mr. Yao, I want to open up a bakery in my hometown."

"No, Francis. Why now?" Yao sighed, "You are one of the best editors I have, Francis. You know that. And how about Arthur's projects? He specially asked for you, Francis."

"I know, monsieur.. But this is my dream, to make a bakery in my hometown." Francis shifted in his seat, "I believe you will find someone to fill my position, monsieur."

"But Arthur doesn't want anyone else for that position."

"I can still read his novel and give him advices as a friend, he knows that."

"I still don't get it, Francis. I really don't. Are you sure?"

"J'en suis sûr, monsieur. I'm sure."

Yao sighed, "Okay, then. When would you like to stop?"

"Right after the launching of Arthur's novel, I suppose. It's on 27th this month, too, so I think that it will be a good time." Francis smiled.

"That will be next week... Fine, yes."

"And monsieur, could I ask for one more thing?"

Yao nodded. Francis cleared his throat, "Please don't tell anyone about my leave."

A sigh, "Ah? Why? I have to tell everyone about it."

"Then... Could you just tell everyone after I leave? I want it to be a surprise leave."

"Fine."

"Merci, monsieur. Thank you very much."

Starting on that day, Francis worked faster than usual. Not that he had to. He just...got too lazy to see Alfred hugging Arthur and kissing him and holding his hand and all. Jealous? Yes of course. He shouldn't be, but he was.

* * *

"Arthur, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Um... yeah, sure," Arthur said, letting go of Alfred's hand. They were in the parking lot, Alfred and Arthur on their way to Alfred's car.

"Can't you just talk here, Francey?"

"Don't call me that, Alfred. It's ridiculous."

Arthur sighed. "I'll go with him, Al. Just a minute."

"No, Artie. You never know what he would do to you."

Francis snorted, "I'm not that low, Alfred. I'm not the one who left Arthur drunk in a bar while I'm with someone else."

"Hey-!" Alfred stepped forward, stiff, hand ready to fly.

Arthur closed his eyes, moving to a space between Alfred and Francis. "Stop it, Alfred. You too, Francis. Please."

"Je suis desole, Arthur." Francis moved a step backward, "I want to invite you to a dinner, in my apartment."

"I don't want you to go-"

"Arthur, what do you think? It's on Friday."

"Arthur, listen-"

"Alfred, stop." Arthur raised his left hand to the air.

"But Art-"

"Mon Dieu, shut up, Alfred! I'm only inviting Arthur, so shut up!" Alfred sent Francis a death glare at this, while Francis was simply looking into Arthur's emerald eyes which were also looking into his.

Arthur sighed, "Okay. Yes, I'll be there, Francis."

"Merci, Arthur." Francis smiled and turned away to his car.

"But Arthur-!" Alfred started again.

"Alfred, no. I have decided."

* * *

Friday.

Francis was in his kitchen, making foods. He prepared the nicest dinner he could cook which mean...the best food one would ever taste.

Arthur would arrive in about 30 minutes, being the on time kind of person he was. Francis decided that the food he was cooking would be fine if he left it so he went to his bedroom and start changing his clothes.

There was a knock on the door. Only Arthur knocked even though there's a bell. He only used the bell if he was in a hurry.

Francis checked on the oven again, and after seeing that his food is fine, he opened the door.

"Hello, Arthur. Please come in," Francis said. Arthur was a bit surprised at how Francis dressed. Yes, he knew the French loved to look very fashionable, but it's just dinner, did he have to wear a suit that looked so...expensive while he was just wearing one of his cream coloured shirt, brown trousers and a brown jacket?

"Where are you going?" the question slipped out of Arthur's lips before he could stop it.

"Ohonhon mon cherie, I'm going to have dinner with you. Quoi?" Francis flipped his hair in his extravagant style.

"Your suit. That's what I'm talking about, frog!" Arthur was annoyed.

"Ah mon cher, I'm just wearing my favourite suit to have dinner with my favourite man~" Francis responded, blinking his left eye.

"Bloody frog! I bet you even flirt your chair," Arthur said, not blushing at all. Pity me, Francis thought.

"Oui, oui, mon cher. Now please come in," Francis said, because Arthur was still being outside of his apartment.

* * *

A/N: Okay. Tell me what you think about it. Thanks :)


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for everyone who have read this story, especially those who have reviewed, followed and favourited. It means a lot to me.

I enjoyed writing this. Hope you guys will also enjoy it. Happy reading. And as usual, I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

"Want me to help?" Arthur asked when he was inside, admiring the flower in the vase on the table. It was a simple flower arrangement, consisted only by pale pink and white tea roses and baby's breath; the vase was also simple, crystal with pale pink ribbon on it.

"Non, it is okay. Just sit down, cher." Francis said, guiding Arthur to one of the dining chair. Arthur shrugged then sat down.

Francis turned to the kitchen, thinking 'This is the last day of the endearments, Francis. Don't waste it.'

Arthur heard the sound of knife cutting bread behind him, followed by a question from Francis, "Cher, the main course is not ready yet, would you like some tomato bruschettas?"

"Sure." Arthur answered, turning his head to see Francis looking at him and waving his hand which was holding a knife. He huffed, "Don't wave your knife, Frog." It was replied by a grin from Francis and he turned to making bruschetta.

"Um... It might take quite a few minutes, you can watch me if you want, mon chou." Francis pointed to a stall, which provided a view of the kitchen.

Arthur moved to the chair, "You seemed strange this week, Francis. What is wrong?"

"Ah, lapin, I have no idea. I don't think I have done anything strange." Francis turned his back against Arthur, started to toast the sliced baguettes on a frying pan.

"I do have an idea." Francis faced Arthur, cocking his head to the left, feeling a bit panicked. "Are you heartbroken?"

"Um... Some kind of that, cher. Some kind of that." With that, he turned again, turned off the stove and checked the oven. The food will be ready in ten minutes.

"Really? Heartbroken? I thought you could get anyone."

Francis cut a tomato, back still facing Arthur, "Non, apparently not." He sighed, 'I couldn't get you, no matter what I do or how hard I try.'

There was a silence. Arthur slid his fingers on the counter in front of him; Francis put the ready bruchettas on a plate.

"Let's just eat the bruschetta here, shall we?" Francis asked, put the plate on the counter in front of Arthur and sat on the stall beside Arthur.

Arthur took one of the bruschettas. He hummed in delight as it entered his mouth. "This is good."

"Toni's boyfriend showed me how to cook it when I visited them." Francis smiled, watching the Brit closing his eyes as he took another bite.

The oven let out a ping sound. Francis stood and went to the oven. He took out the chicken breasts he cooked and put it on the plates. "Wait, mon cher. I need to prepare the sauce. It needs to be directly made after the chicken is done."

"Okay," Arthur said, smiling. 'The food is going to be great.' He thought. "I'll just help you with the spoon and anything else, I suppose."

"Sure. I have prepared them; you just need to set them up on the table." Francis said, pointing half-heartedly to a drawer.

Arthur set up the eating utensils Francis had prepared on the table. He noticed them as the set Francis only used on special occasions like Christmas, New Year, his birthday, Francis' birthday, the days his novels were published, the day his book became a best seller, and many other occasions they celebrated together. 'So what is the occasion?' he thought.

"It's ready, Francis."

"Okay, cher. I'll be there in a sec. Just sit down and wait."

Arthur began tapping his fingers on his knees impatiently when, "Here you go. Chicken breast with BBQ sauce and beurre blanc." Francis said, and with a wink at Arthur, he put the plate on Arthur's side of the table before putting the other plate on his side.

"This looks good." Arthur said, smiling lightly at Francis who was pouring some wine into their glasses.

"It tastes good too, cher. Try it."

Arthur cut the chicken into a smaller piece and put some BBQ sauce on it before he ate it. "This is really good Francis," Arthur said, after swallowing down a moan that almost got out of his mouth.

"Merci, Arthur. Enjoy it." Francis smiled and started to eat his chicken.

They ate in silence, which was usual.

When they were done, Francis asked Arthur to bring his wine glass to the living room to watch some DVD together while Francis was moving the chocolate pudding from the refrigerator to the plates.

"What do you want to watch?"

"I don't know. Pick one." Francis answered from the kitchen.

"Random, then." Arthur closed his eyes then searched the box where Francis put all his -theirs, actually. Arthur brought some from his house-DVDs. He took out the one in the corner, and read the title, "The Wedding Singer."

"Oh well. It has been a while since we watched that one." Francis said, handing Arthur his plate and went to the couch while Arthur started to turn on the DVD.

Halfway through the movie Francis took another sip of his wine and cleared his throat.

"Cher." Arthur grunted a question; being too absorbed in the movie.

"Arthur." Arthur turned, a 'what?' on his face.

"I love you." Arthur blushed.

"Francis, I know you're heartbroken and is in need of love. But even you have to admit that confessing to me is a bit too much. Besides..." Arthur smiled slightly, showing Francis his left hand where a silver ring is shining on the ring finger. "I've got Al."

"Ah." Francis's smile faltered for a second. 'Ah.' His inner thought sighed. "That was stupid of me. Of course you've got Alfred. Just forget what I have said then."

"You are being strange, Francis." Arthur paused the DVD, "first, you stopped calling me with your endearments. Second, you ignored me. Third, you insisted on asking me to come for this dinner. You have never done that. What's going on? You can tell me. If you want to, of course." Arthur shrugged.

"Non, there's nothing to tell you." Francis looked down, 'I have told you what I want you to know.' He smiled. "Let's just continue the movie."

"Fine."

Thanks for reading, tell me what you think about it. I'm open to anything ^^


	5. Chapter 5

I'm so sorry it took so long. Thanks for everyone, especially HungarysGotAFryingPan who has helped me throughout this I-can't-write time. Once again, I'm sorry. Please enjoy!

* * *

"More wine, cher?"

"Yeah, sure." Francis leaned in closer to Arthur to pour some wine into his glass. He took a deep breath. Arthur filled his lungs. 'It's pitiful, Francis. You are pitiful,' the voice in his head reprimanded.

"Thanks." Arthur sipped his wine. "You see, I'm going to America."

Francis's eyes widened. "You're moving?"

"No.. Alfred's parents want to see me. I'll go there on the 28th."

"Ah..." Francis leaned back to the couch. He might run into Arthur (and Alfred) at the airport then.

"Yes. After the launching."

"I know. Well... There's nothing you have to do after the launching so it's fine. How long are you staying there?"

"About a week or so."

"Then...remember that you have to write a story for the publisher's yearly magazine. The deadline is on next month."

"I know." Arthur sighed. "Hey, Frog. What if his parents don't like me?"

"Alfred's?" Arthur answered with a nod. "Pluck your eyebrows, cher. They might think better of you if you don't have those catter-" Francis's answer was cut by a smack on the backside of the head.

"Bastard. I'm being serious right here." Arthur narrowed his eyes and looked sharply at the other man who was rubbing his head and wincing in pain.

"You have ever met my family. They like you." Francis patted Arthur's back lightly, "I bet Alfred's parents will too. I mean, who wouldn't love a guy whose usual face is I-am-a-bastard-and-you-know-it-so-leave?"

Arthur smacked Francis's head harder that time. "And to think I was going to thank you..."

Francis laughed lightly. He didn't lie about his family. They love Arthur, really. They even asked him to just bring Arthur to whatever occasions his family held.

Suddenly there was a really loud noise outside.

"Shit. Was that thunder?" Arthur asked, his finger pointed vaguely into the air.

"Yes, I think it was. You aren't scared of thunder, are you?" He never knew the Brit was scared of thunder. They have experienced lots of things which are even scarier than thunder and the man didn't even flinch. They also have ever been locked in traffic on a trip at night where a storm was happening but the man looked just fine.

"I'm not, but Alfred is." Arthur shrugged and fished his phone out of the pocket, "need to call him."

'Alfred again...huh.'

"Alfred, hey."

Someone talked very fast and loudly on the other end. "Oi oi, don't shout. I'll be there in a minute."

Silence.

"Just watch TV or something, yeah? Okay." Arthur ended the phone call.

"You're going home?"

Arthur turned to face Francis and let out a small sigh, "I have to. Sorry. Alfred-"

"Needs you. Yes, I understand." Francis cut in and stood, "Alfred drove you here, right?" Arthur hummed a response. "I'll drive you, then."

"I can call a cab, you know."

"Non, it's fine." Francis smiled at Arthur who was still sitting on the couch, a wine glass on his hand. 'I want to be with you a little longer tonight..' he added in his mind.

"Okay." Arthur finally stood and followed Francis to the front door.

They wore their coats and stepped out of the apartment. Francis locked the door, "where should I drive you to?"

"My house."

Francis dropped the keys he was holding.

"You don't need to be so surprised." Arthur said bitterly.

"Ah. No. Sorry." He let out a stiff laughter and took the keys on the floor. "Well... I was a bit surprised. Just a bit. Since when?"

"Um... Yesterday." A faint blush was seen on Arthur's cheeks. "Can we just... go now?"

"Ah. Sorry."

Francis drove Arthur home in silence, save for some responses he gave when Arthur talked to him.

That was the first time it happened. They have never stayed silent. Well..Not in this kind of silence, not in this thick and rather uncomfortable silence. Their –yes, their, silence was the kind of warm silence, the silence that envelops you like a blanket comfortably, not choking (like this one).

Arthur thought that Francis was angry. Because he had to leave soon, that is. Because before –when there wasn't this relationship between him and Alfred, when it was just the two of them, Arthur would just have a sleepover in Francis's apartment. There was no one they could come back to, except their families...and each other.

"I'm really sorry, Francis." Arthur said, as he held on the handle of the door's car.

"Oui, it's okay. I understand." Francis kept his eyes focused on the wheel.

"Okay." Arthur opened the door and put his left foot first out of the car. "Thank you for the night, Francis."

"Don't make me feel like it's a date, cher." Francis looked into Arthur's eyes and smiled. The smile didn't reach his eyes.

Arthur let out a little laugh that sounded like a bell to Francis's ears. "I'll see you later," he said after he went out of the car. Arthur closed the door, and ran to the house as fast as possible.

Francis drove away as soon as he saw Arthur reach the front door, for he didn't want to see Alfred hugging Arthur and holding him like his last life line.

* * *

Sorry again that it's short - -" Please review. And... Just like what I have said (or wrote) before, I'm not a native speaker of English and my English is just crappy.. So if you find any grammar mistakes...Please let me know. Thank you! :D


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